Tell Me About Dying
by scarylolita
Summary: Kenny is gone, and this time he isn't coming back. Slightly AU, and hints of K2.


**South park © Matt Stone & Trey Parker.**

* * *

_And when I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn  
Rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice  
Just know that I'm looking down on you smiling  
And I didn't feel a thing, so baby don't feel no pain  
Just smile back_

Eminem

**1.**

"Kyle, I'm so sorry," my parents say to me once I arrive home from classes. "They say he went in his sleep. It was painless."

"No," I shake my head, "Kenny…"

"He's gone, Kyle. I'm sorry," my father frowns.

My mother nods, adding, "At least that poor boy is finally at peace."

No…

"No, you're lying."

"Sometimes, people die and when people die, they don't come back. That's just the way it is."

No, I know that's not true.

"But," I croak, "But what if he came back before?"

"Came back before?" my father asks.

I shut my eyes, refusing to cry in front of my parents. "Forget it," I whisper.

It might sound completely fucking ridiculous but I was there and I saw it happen with my own eyes.

We were fourteen and Kenny drowned at the pool. Everyone was screaming and yelling and the paramedics came and did as much as they could but they were too late. His heart stopped beating and I swear mine did too when I heard them say, "Time of death 4:27."

_Time of death, 4:27. _

I thought that was it but fifteen minutes later he sat up, scaring the shit out of everyone in the little room.

I never asked him about it. I never asked him if he seen anything, like the cliché bright, white light. I never asked him about it and he never mentioned dying. They kept him overnight at the hospital and then he was allowed to leave. The doctors called it a miracle.

"Kenny," I had once said to him.

"Hm" he grunted his acknowledgement, not looking up from his sketch book. He was always drawing, whether doodles of pornographic stick girls, or pretty landscapes and portraits.

"Remember when we were fourteen, that day on the beach?"

His hand stopped moving and he set the pencil down. "What about it?"

"You died," I said.

"Did I?"

"You died," I said again.

He finally looked up at me, "Kyle, what are you trying to ask me?"

I opened my mouth but then paused. What was I trying to ask him? I shut my mouth and pressed my lips together.

"You don't know," he stated and looked away, picking up his pencil again. "Let me know when you figure it out." He started to draw again. I paid attention to the strokes of the pencil, some long, some short, some etching back and forth.

Then I left.

**2.**

Four years later I did manage to finally ask him about that day.

"Did you see anything?"

"There was like… this light," he said.

"Really?" I asked.

He looked at me with a serious expression, then cracked a smile, "No, I'm lying. There was no light."

I scowled, "Be serious for five minutes. I'm honestly curious and I want to figure this out."

"I'm still trying to figure it out myself." He shut his eyes for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I don't remember what happened, Kyle. I just remember thinking about how much I didn't want to die, how much you didn't want me to die. There were still things I needed to do. I suppose I wasn't ready."

"But you are now?"

He shrugged lazily, "If it happened, I wouldn't have any regrets."

"But why?"

"I've accomplished a lot in eighteen years. I finished high school. I mean, look at me, I'm even attending university. I've accomplished more than anyone else in my family, so I'm happy. I'm where I'm supposed to be in life, and so are you. I could die happy knowing that."

I know it sounds corny and gay, but he always made my heart feel warm and shit.

But at the same time, I hated when he'd talk like that. It made me feel like he assumed his soul purpose in life was to make others happy, rather than making himself happy. He was too altruistic for his own good.

**3.**

I should have known something bad was going to happen. The day was strange and Kenny smiled a lot. Kenny wasn't one to smile often, but the day before he died he did. I should have known he was trying to cover something up.

I should have known...

Before we parted ways, he held me tightly. He wrapped his arms around me, and the touch had an almost desperate feel to it.

I rubbed his back, "You okay, dude?"

When he let go, he brushed the hair away from my forehead and kissed it. He didn't answer my question. Instead, he told me, "Kyle, it will be fine. You'll be fine."

I didn't think anything of it. I just thought Kenny was being Kenny. He says strange stuff like that all the time and we all humor him. I should have realized that time was different. I should have walked him home.

If there is a god, he is especially cruel.

I got used to the idea that Kenny was impervious to death. There was something that made him special. I assumed that if he came back once, maybe he'd always come back.

He made fun of how sensitive I was about the whole thing. He'd say things like, "Darling, I came back because I heard you call my name."

But the next time he died, I wasn't there, so if there was an inkling of truth about what he said then…

Maybe that's why he didn't come back.

But I know that isn't logical. I can't go around blaming myself. I know if Kenny were here, he'd say, "It was just my time to go." I'm sure Kenny knew once he went to sleep that night he wasn't going to wake up.

**4.**

Cartman and Stan flip through stations until stopping on some reality show on the comedy channel. Cartman is a fan of that real life slapstick comedy. What is funnier than people falling and hurting themselves?

I don't think it's all that funny. They're laughing, but I'm not laughing. I'm trying to pay attention but my mind keeps going back to Kenny.

_I hate you._

_I hate you, Kenny._

_I hate you for leaving._

_Shit, I'm such a liar, huh?  
_

_But why did you have to leave?_

Stan's laughter turns into sobs and Cartman doesn't say anything. He turns the television off and the room gets eerily quiet, apart from Stan's crying. I pull him into my chest and tell him Kenny wouldn't want him crying, because it's true. On more occasions than one, he's said, "When I die, I want a party. You guys better give me a party."

So that is why we gathered here, sitting together with a half empty bottle of Kenny's favorite wine. The funeral was only hours ago. There were so many people. He had touched the lives of so many. He was loved. He was really loved.

Cartman goes into the kitchen, saying he doesn't want to be part of a "fag-fest". If it were any other occasion, I would have yelled at him. I would have called him fat even though he's not anymore. But this time is different. It's different because I know Cartman is sad too.

Kenny was always there for us, no matter how bad things got. He was there for Cartman when Liane would bring her "clients" over. He was one of the only people who tolerated Cartman and his entire prejudice being. He was there for Stan when Shelley would beat him bloody and he was there for me when the girls voted me as the ugliest boy in class, or my overbearing parents became too much.

Sometimes I think I loved him, but it's too late to be thinking about things like that. When I start to think about it, I erase the thoughts as soon as I can and try to think about simpler things. Things that don't matter. Things that won't make me feel so sad.

So much for a party.

**5.**

The days just got worse. Stan grieved openly, while Cartman was seasoned in the art of repression, and the hole in my chest got bigger.

But that all stopped when the letter arrived. It came out of nowhere. I just found it sitting on my bed one day.

As we opened the letter, I saw the messy scrawl that could only have been Kenny's.

_Hey, guys. _

_The view is nice from up here. _

_Haha! You're faces will be priceless when you read that line. _

_Before you start to wonder, I'm all right. Everything is all right. I know this probably isn't reassuring. It's probably not what you want to hear. You might not even believe it, but I'm telling the truth. Everything is fine, and you guys will be fine too. _

_Stan, I know you'll be the first to cry, but try not to. Be strong. Become a famous football player, marry Wendy, have lots of cute kids. I'd like to see some little Stan Juniors running around some day. Also, if your sister gives you any shit, I'll come and haunt her to the ends of the earth. _

_Kyle, you're the smartest person I ever met, so stop doing whatever your parents tell you to. I know you don't want to be a lawyer. It's time to figure things out for yourself. You're a man now and you have every right to make these decisions on your own. I know whatever you do with your life, you'll be great. _

_And Eric, I know you didn't cry at all, and you probably won't ever. That's okay, but don't deny you'll miss seeing my cute face! Good luck getting your ten million dollars. I have no doubt you'll make that dream of yours a reality some day.  
_

_You guys have to be there for each other now. Don't ever lose touch. I'll be watching! You're all exactly where you're supposed to be and I know you'll all make me proud. _

_Lots of love,_

_Kenny M. _

_Ps: It gets boring up here. Come visit me every so often, I'll be listening._

On the back of the letter was a drawing. It was of Kenny, Stan, Cartman and I. In it, we're young and smiling.

Yes, there was always something kind of magical about Kenny. Even in death, he continues to prove it.

Stan's tears dried up and he started laughing again. Cartman, well… who knows what's going on in his head.

And me? I can't feel the hole in my heart anymore. I'll miss Kenny. I'll always miss him, but at least I know he's happy. Wherever he is, he's happy. Knowing that, I can be happy too.

We can now finally honor Kenny's memory in the way he wanted us to.

**6.**

As I step outside, the sun is shining. I think today is a good day for visits.

There are lots of flowers on the grave. People are still thinking of him. I kiss my fingers and press them to the headstone.

"Hey, Kenny."


End file.
